Decend with Me
by SutekiKage
Summary: AU Assassins lead a rather dangerous life, Matthew knows this first hand. Full summary inside. BL and RAPE, don't read if you don't like.
1. Running without Seeing

Characters: One-sided RussiaxCanada; (mutual?) AmericaxCanada; FrancexUK; GermanyxItaly; AustriaxHungary; various other characters (A free for all? O___O")

Rating: PG for now, but planned as a R

Warnings: Graphic, with a hint of torture in the pain _and_ pleasure department to some very unwilling victum. Also 1 Hetalia character death, even though I had planned so much more...

Summary: [AU] The Thymes Society is an exclusive club that is named after the river it's main branch is located by. It is a society that has numerous members in high ranking positions, mostly in Europe, but some around the world. Yet there are a handful of people in this exclusive club that don't seem to belong; mysterious beings who come and go as if on a whim, sometimes never returning at all. This is the story of one such boy, with curly blonde hair and glasses to boot, a marksman of sorts, an assassin.

Author note - If there's any questions about this story please ask in the comments, I will not answer anything that gives away the storyplot though, I've already planned out EVERYTHING cause I wanna FINISH THIS 3

* * *

.,x.{Start}.x,.

"Maria? You there?" There was light static on the other side of the line, which is ridiculous since she was only a few floors below him.

"Hello?! Theo?!"

"Yes, yes, it's me. Just stay calm and do as I say, do you hear me?" There was a slightly frantic tone in her voice as she answered, "Stay calm, idiot! You just need to get the deed from Jamieson's office and bring it to me." More frantic talking and hushed movement, "No, there's no one else in the damned building! Get to it or you can consider the deal over!" The last part came out as a growl, really, the woman was too much to work with sometimes.

He heard the shuffling of paper of what he could only assume to be the woman flipping through various documents on Jamieson's desk. She was murmuring the title of each sheet that she spotted in a rushed breath, as if a mantra. Theo muttered along with her, "Come on...come on..." each one louder then the next with his growing impatience. His fingers twitching on the phone methodically.

Finally, a shaky, triumphant cry accompanied by the sound of quick footsteps. "_I got it!_ I got it..." she hissed.

The clicking of an elevator button followed by nervous pacing was heard, the elevator door slid open.

"Ah." It was a small cry that slipped out, surprise more then horror.

"What happened?" Theo demanded, hearing her footsteps as she stepped into the elevator somewhat reluctantly. He went quiet, there was something wrong, but he didn't make a sound. At this point, Maria had mindlessly slipped here cell into her pocket.

"Hello," the built blond had greeted, cheerfully; sickly sweet.

"Hi," she replied, trying her best to hide any nervousness in her voice. She stood there as the doors closed, glancing over to the purple eyed man. He smiled as he bowed a little, curtly.

"Floor?" he asked after the door closed, seeing as how Maria didn't bend over to push a button.

"Oh! Uhh...14th floor," she felt herself flush with embarrassment.

"Really?" He asked her, reaching out to push the rounded button. It glowed green around the edges, splotchy at some parts from overuse. She thought the man silly for not pushing a button himself.

"Yea."

"Funny," the tall man drawled as he reached into his long, white trench-coat, "That's where I'm heading too."

Theo heard a scream before the other end of the line went silent. The elevator door opened with a familiar ping.

"SHIT," he cursed, slamming the phone back into it's receiver, there was definitely something wrong here. He looked around his room frantically, maybe he was just being paranoid, Maria was just playing a trick on him, yea.

There was a light knocking on the door and a muffled, "Sir? Mr. Audley, are you ok?" Theo jumped with a start, there shouldn't be anyone else in the building, "I'm..I'm fine." The door opened with a soft click as a young man with curly blond hair and clear blue eyes popped his head in; although his glasses refracted most of the light so Theo wasn't exactly sure if his eyes were clear or if they were stormy.

"I was worried since I heard you yelling down the hall," the boy stated as he came all the way in.

"I'm just a little irked," he breathed, "One of my deals just fell through."

"I'm sorry to hear that." The boy stepped closer, "Everyone has up and down days, there's sure to be an up day coming along, Mr. Audley."

"Sure." What a strange boy, who was he anyways...? "I'm sorry, I'm so rude, what did you say your name was again?"

The man watched, enraptured as no voice came out of the petite boy even though he was smiling so warmly as he talked; instead there was the sound of a gun and the feel of falling.

.,x.{~}.x,.

Ivan marched down the hall and turned his last corner as he slowly approached the target, hopefully the man hasn't gotten away yet. There was a soft thud on the other side of the open door, curiously, he pushed it open the rest of the way.

The sight he saw made him shiver.

The boy was smiling, and even though his eyes were sad, he could definitely see that there was lust and excitement hidden deep within it's stormy depths.

Matthew didn't move when the taller man entered, he lowered his arm slowly as he made to put his revolver back in it's holster-hidden at the small of his back. Ivan tapped him lightly on the shoulder and was a little surprised when his eyes were met with the front of the barrel.

The younger man had taken a step back, his hip making a resounding thump as it hit the side of the desk, "Oh! Ivan!"

There was a flash as Matthew quickly put his revolver* away, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were coming after the same target." He pushed his glasses back up as a small sigh escaped his mouth, he surveyed the scene. The Russian was the last person he wanted to run into on a job.

The purple eyed man smiled, "It's ok, I just wasn't fast enough today."

"I truly am sorry, Ivan. Chatwick..." The taller man wasn't really listening, he saw how the boy was trying to look away, but at the same time glancing at him nervously. Too fucking adorable. He took a step closer and grabbed the small hand that suddenly tried to push him away, bringing it up to his cold lips, "You know, I wish you wouldn't ignore me like that."

"Wha...what do you mean?" Matthew breathed, shuddering as Ivan nipped the junction between his palm and pulse.

"Our partnership," it sounded more like a statement rather then a proposition. Matthew pulled himself away, slowly, as if not wanting to alert a hungry carnivore of his movements.

"I work alone, Ivan. You know that."

"As do I, but I wouldn't mind ending this for you." The Canadian moved towards the door.

"I'm sorry, but I really can't do that," even though Matthew hadn't said it, the words "for you" hung in the air. The Russian fixed him with a look that chilled him, "I should go."

"I'll see you later then, Matthew." The blue eyed boy couldn't help but notice the slight Russian accent as he said it, it made the man sound even more monstrous then he actually was. Or maybe he had just showed Matthew a side that very few people lived to talk about.

Without another word, he slipped out of the room and broke into a quick trot, suddenly noticing the cold sweat breaking out all over him. They've known each other as early as when Francis had found him abandoned on the streets, yet he'd never get used to the Russian's presence.

.,x.{~}.x,.

Ivan heard the retreating figure and felt a feeling he could only describe as frustration boiling in his gut. He should've taken the boy away from the Frenchman when he had the chance all those years ago, instead he had stood by and done nothing when that stupid British man took him away overseas. Who knows what useless things that man's taught him, at least he didn't turn out like his useless brother.

He growled inwardly as he approached the target, noting that Matthew had made a perfect kill. There was very little blood dripping out of the gaping hole in the man's forehead, he looked inside; curiously, childlike. No bullet in sight, that meant the kill was important enough for Matthew to use an exploding bullet; probably custom made, seeing as how those weren't allowed anymore. The proof was in the pink jelly-like substance that splattered the back wall where the man had been standing before. A little defiance on Matthew's part, Arthur was too traditional to use something like that.

He remembers the stout man ranting (crying actually) to him a few years ago at a bar about how Matthew had his eye on a pretty little thing and how it was nothing like what Arthur had wanted him to use._"He's becoming more and more like his brother everyday! Listening to me less and less on assignments (although he still gets it done efficiently), I don't know what to do anymore!"_ The Russian had, of course, offered to take him if he was too much to handle, but Arthur laughed as if at a funny joke and promptly threw up.

But he had bought it for him anyways.

.,x.{~}.x,.

He thanked the taxi driver as they pulled up to a rather old building next to the Thymes River. There were a few old men walking out of the building, the Society's weekly meeting must've just ended. As he stepped out and towards them, they gave him a curt bow and he returned the gesture. Those were his clients and Arthur had always told him to respect your patrons. Although you rarely got to meet the man who requested for you to kill someone.

He entered through the side door, noticing that someone had changed the flowers in the hallway to daffodils. Probably Feliks, seeing as how the other boy had always felt the place needed more colour. He headed deeper into the building, passing other people less and less as he approached the small office labeled 'CHATWICK'. Matthew knocked three times in fast procession as he turned knob and went in.

The office was as he remembered it from a few months ago, bright and white, devoid of all dirt.

"Sit down, Matthew," the man behind the desk motioned quickly as he returned to writing. Matthew took a few steps and chose to sit to the man's left.

A few minutes of silence later Chatwick finished writing with a sigh and looked up at him, "So?"

"Theo Audley's dead."

"Good, good...So the rest of the money will be sent to several of your international acco--"

"Ivan was there too."

"What?"

"Ivan Braginski was--" Chatwick cut him off, "I know who he is, what was he doing there?"

The Canadian looked at him, confused, "I thought I had stolen his job."

Chatwick shook his head, "I only told _you_ about the job."

"Oh."

"Oh whatever," Chatwick brushed the topic off with a swipe of his hand, "It was probably just a coincidence." Matthew wasn't so sure, an uncomfortable coldness settled into the pits of his gut, as if he was punched.

"On to business then. Don't want to keep you here all night." Chatwick wheeled over on his revolving chair to an elegant oak shelf. Gliding his fingers along, he stopped at a thin, leather-bound book and pulled it out. He wheeled back, flipped to a blank page and began writing, "Ok, you know the deal."

"Agent 49, Matthew Williams. Target Theo Audley, executed April 15th, 20XX (2) by Magnum Revolver. Ammunition used is custom made by one Callaghan, Philips--"

"How _is_ dear Callaghan?"

"He's doing fine, sir. Spent his 54th birthday with his family a few months ago. I think he mentioned that his son's taking over the family business."

"That's nice to hear," Chatwick did not look up once while saying this. "Anyways," the man whistled as he finished writing in Matthew's records, "You seem to be making quite a hefty sum here Matthew. Very good, very good." He rolled back to the shelf and placed the book back in it's little nook. "You know..."

Matthew had seen this conversation coming, "I don't need a partner, Mr. Chatwick."

The man across from him scoffed, "With the amount you make now, you need a partner to get better jobs with better pay, don't you think?"

"I like working alone though."

"You know that's not true," Chatwick idly fingered some papers on his desk. "All the agents grow tired of being alone sooner or later, look! Ivan's a good example, I'm glad you brought him up before, he's been working for us for over 14 years and he's finally given into the prospect of partnership." The man pulled his drawer open and shuffled through it a few seconds before pulling out an envelop with some messy scribbles on it. Chatwick opened it and pulled out the letter filled with equally messy writing.

"Ivan's been requesting for your partnership for a while now, Matthew! It'd be good to work with him, he's your senior."

Matthew looked at the package, his eyes scanning the message written on it with a bit of distaste. Even Ivan's writing was child-like, but everyone knew better. It was chilling.

"Ok, fine, what about your brother?"

"Alfred?"

"Why not? Lately he's been expressing his interest in teaming up. He's been hitching up with various teams lately." Matthew knew better then anyone else, his brother was more interested in the money then the idea.

"I'm not like him though."

Chatwick sighed in defeat and used his hand to prop up his head," Fine, fine. How about this, I have a new job for you, it'll be a joint effort with your previous mentors. If you like working with them then maybe you'll reconsider."

Now it was Matthew's turn to sigh, working with those two would be something alright. If he didn't stop their constant bickering, there'd be no work done.

"It's a little risky then what you're used to though."

"That's ok, I'll be careful."

"Good, good. Well, I won't fill you in too much about it. You're basically sneaking into a Italian syndicate as a new rookie who was under Francis' care at one point. I'll have Arthur and Francis take care of the details." Matthew shuddered, imagining them fighting over who is to actually take responsibility of him. "One of the syndicate's prospective heir's will be your target. You will be hired as his secretary, he seems to have particular _tastes_ you see." Matthew nodded, understand too well what he meant. "Now the pay's higher too, seeing as how you'll be working with Arthur and Francis. Lets see here...$6 million right now and two separate payments of $8 million if you get both parts of the assignment done."

"Both parts?" Matthew looked at Chatwick, confusion painted across his features.

"The second part's for if you co-operate to help Arthur and Francis get _their_ target."

.,x.{~}.x,.

Light streamed through his window back at his apartment in London, conveniently located a few minutes away from the Thymes Society building. He had bought the place for convinience. He had 4 other small apartments in different parts of the world for when he was working overseas. Those, he shared with different agents, depending on the area. Right now, this place was his own.

Matthew stretched and looked over at his clock, 11:43 AM, he mused. Fighting the urge to just go back to sleep for the next few days before his plane ride, he threw the blanket off him and swung his legs over the bed. With a sigh he flopped upright and trudged to his bathroom, throwing his clothes on the floor as he undressed and walked at the same time.

There was an annoying squeak as he turned his shower faucet on, he frowned. It needs to be fixed, he thought as he stepped into the cascading water. The warmth that flowed over him was comforting and he decided he might as well wash his hair as well. He picked up the shampoo bottle and squirted a generous amount out as he started lathering his hair.

The shampoo washed off him as fast as he was scrubbing his scalp, he watched it absentmindedly as his fingers tugged lighty at his hair.

Suddenly, he heard a click, someone had come in from the front door. He leaned his head back to wash off whatever soap suds were left in his hair and turned to face the washroom door. He grabbed a few shampoo bottles. The door opened. Matthew chucked a bottle as hard as he could.

"WHOA!" The figure through the steam ducked the bottle flying towards his face, "Nice throw Mattie."

"Alfred?!"

"Yup!"

"What are you doing here?!" Matthew chided as Alfred went over to pick up the shampoo bottle.

"Just dropping by, I just left the Society and heard you were leaving in a few days." He handed the shampoo bottle back to Matthew as he looked his younger brother over, "You've grown."

Matthew blushed, "Of course, Alfred, people _do_ grow." He had to turn his back on the other boy as he put the shampoo bottle down, feeling even more nervous as he heard Alfred approach him. He yelped when he felt fingertips touch the small of his back, ghosting up slowly, then back down before it left him-experimenting.

The younger boy shivered, "What was that for...?" He asked as he turned back around to face a smiling Alfred.

"Just felt like it," Alfred shrugged, the stupidest look on his face. Matthew felt irritated as he picked up the bottle again and chucked it at Alfred, " Out! Out!"

Alfred laughed, "Ok! Ok! I'm out!" He left, snickering, as he closed the door behind him.

Matthew sighed as he looked for a towel, "Shit...ALFRED...!" He forgot to grab one when he came in.

.,x.{~}.x,.

It was times like this that Matthew wished that he had bought an apartment with separate rooms. He felt Alfred watching him the whole time he dressed, trying his best to ignore it as he clutched his towel tighter around his waist. Of course that made putting his underwear on sort of impossible.

The American laughed as he watched his brother struggle with putting his boxers on _while _holding his towel up. The boy was twisting every-which way as he tried to get his right leg through the flopping hole. There was a cry of triumph, which turned to anguish as his maple leaf boxers ripped almost in half.

Alfred snorted, in his effort to keep his laughter in; but as soon as Matthew glared at him in that way only he could, he burst out laughing. He trotted over and grabbed the towel away from Matthew's waist before the younger man could argue and held it up in front of him like a curtain, blocking out Matthew's nether-regions

"Thanks," Matthew mumbled, pouting, as he went to look for another pair of boxers, " Although I wish you did that _before_ I destroyed my favorite pair of boxers."

"Sorry," Alfred snickered, grinning brightly. His stomach grumbled, "I don't suppose you have any food, do you?" He grinned even brighter, if that was possible.

.,x.{~}.x,.

His name was Marcus, Marcus something or other. He was the current head of the syndicate, an impressive 84 years old. No wonder Matthew was targeting one of the heirs, his client was probably one of them. The old man smiled at him as the familiar french man next to him introduced him.

"I have great expectations for you," The old man rasped, his voice sounding brittle. Matthew nodded, "I will do my best to help your nephew."

Marcus nodded, indicating that they could leave. Matthew and the taller blond headed out, "Don't cause too much trouble in your short stay." Both of them froze, Matthew looked back as his ex-mentor pulled him out.

The old man was smiling. He knew, he knew and didn't even give a damn.

.,x.{~}.x,.

The french man had him in a bear-like hug as soon as they stepped out the door, "Mon chere,oh how I missed you."

Francis was all over him, kissing him on the cheeks, tickling Matthew's face with his stubble as his strong arms nearly suffocated him. Matthew didn't think he'd stop either, until, he felt the cold steel of a semi-automatic pistol(3) slip past his neck and into the Frenchman's Adam's apple.

"Get off him you bloody sop!" Matthew sighed a little in relief as he was let go, the pistol slipping back, clinking into Authur's old holster. Matthew turned into Arthur's embrace, glad to see the man actually allowing physical contact. "You always catch me off guard, Arthur."

"You could pay attention, Matthew," the British scoffed as he patted (more like slapped) Matthew on the back as they pulled away. "If you'd break your habit of not paying attention to your surroundings, you'd be better then that idiot brother of yours."

"You shouldn't treat Alfred like a child all the time," Matthew mumbled under his breath. Francis laughed. Arthur didn't hear him, "What?" Matthew decided that it was safer to just shake his head. Arthur gave him a suspicious glance, "What's so funny?"

The Frenchman answered for him, "Nothing you need to worry about, mon amant," Arthur visibly reddened. Matthew was pretty sure he didn't know a word of French, but he probably caught on after being around Francis for so long, "_You_ can sleep on the sofa for the next two weeks."

There was a horrified cry on Francis' part as Arthur turned his attention back to Matthew, "What are you doing here anyways?"

"I'm on an assignment," he stated, apparently Francis had forgotten to mention anything to Arthur from what Matthew could tell.

The blond man went silent as he glanced at Matt, worry and imminent pain etched on his face.

"I'm...the scap--"

Arthur seemed to catch on, his angry green eyes flashing with realization, "No!"

"I already took the job, Arthur! I can't just decline the offer-you taught me better then that!"

Matthew felt his head jerk sideways as a strong hand left it's mark on his face, the punch almost knocking him off balance. Shocked, he slowly turned back to look at Arthur, his expression one of utmost anger. Matthew didn't say anything, he knew that Arthur still had conflicted feelings for Alfred and himself, even though they were opposites they defied him in their own way. Matthew used what he learnt against the man, Alfred was just more blunt about it.

"You ungrateful piece of--!" This time, Francis had stepped in, slapping the British across the face before he could say anything more. Arthur didn't turn his face back around from the impact.

There were a few minutes of silence before there was another slap, one much lighter, his hand was visibly shaking. The green eyed man stomped off as Francis cradled the red palm print. They both watched until the man turned the corner, then Francis stepped over to Matthew to survey the bruising cheek.

Matthew winced a little as the older man turned his face this way and that, hushing him as he did. "Why'd you take the job, mon enfant?"

"I can do it," Matthew replied simply. Francis sighed.

"You're not foolish, but people underestimate your recklessness," he said, more to himself then to Matthew. "Please be careful," he adds, as he pats Canada on the head after letting go of the boy's face.

Matthew nods, "What are you going to do now?"

"Well," Francis scratched his head as he headed towards Arthur's general direction, "Someone's gotta stop him from killing Chatwick."

Matthew offers a grim smile to his ex-mentor as the tall man raced off down the hall.

.,x.{TBC}.x,.

* * *

(1) Matthew uses a Desert Eagle XIX, I thought it suited him. It's currently the newest and most powerful model from Magnum Research (Company), although he's customized it to fit his needs. His has a chrome white finish, and he calls it Kumajirou.

(2) I don't wanna just decide on a time frame so just put a year in yourselves 3"

(3) Arthurs semi-automatic, yea, he's an old sod who only uses old fashioned things. It's a miracle how well it works too, seeing as how it's been passed on from his mentor. he makes sure to clean it out every time he uses it and polishes it at least once every two weeks. It's called Soothsayer.

Btw, if anyone noticed the significance of the daffodils in the story, I applaud you =P

I'm not a arm's expert or anything either so if anyone knows better then me I would love it if you'd correct me and maybe give me a basic lesson on the difference between pistols and revolvers and rifles and what not xP


	2. Eatting without Tasting

Characters: One-sided RussiaxCanada; (mutual?) AmericaxCanada; FrancexUK; GermanyxItaly; AustriaxHungary; various other characters (A free for all? O___O")

Rating: NC-17 for now, planned as a MA/R

Warnings: Graphic, with a hint of torture in the pain _and_ pleasure department to some very unwilling victim. Also 1 Hetalia character death, even though I had planned so much more...

Summary: [AU] The Thymes Society is an exclusive club that is named after the river it's main branch is located by. It is a society that has numerous members in high ranking positions, mostly in Europe, but some around the world. Yet there are a handful of people in this exclusive club that don't seem to belong; mysterious beings who come and go as if on a whim, sometimes never returning at all. This is the story of one such boy, with curly blonde hair and glasses to boot, a marksman of sorts, an assassin.

.,x.{Start}.x,.

The breeze that blew in through the open window was stale and reminded him of sulfur, it made him lightheaded. The curtains concealing him whipped around him gently, as if acting to embrace him.

Matthew did not notice.

He was too intent on staring at the building across from him.

On the day that Alfred had visited him, he had asked Matthew of a favour. Apparently, he had just accepted a joint commission with Ludwig and Roderich to take out a small syndicate that was unlucky enough to be working in the same area as a larger one. Apparently they were interfering with the larger syndicates "sugar" business and needed to be dealt with.

The Canadian usually tried not to trifle in underground politics since they created more enemies then he would like, but Alfred had _pleaded_ so insistantly, and this time it was less risky then one's he's done before.

He could recall the slightly hurt-definitely planned and intentional-look in the slightly older man's eyes, and it made him shudder how the man could use him with just a _look_. But he would get a favour in return, and Matthew had just the one in mind when his brother had finished asking him.

What mattered was he was here now; there was no turning back, since Ludwig would kill him for being unreliable, or Roderich would for ruining his perfect plan. They were both so disciplined Matthew had to wonder how they had partnerships with a few of the most energetic people ever.

He didn't understand why he was there, the three of them could've done the job without much difficulty-but Roderich, being the perfectionist that he was, suggested that Alfred recruit someone reliable to help do backup outside just in case 'someone' (being Alfred) got careless.

The bespectacled man had protested at first, saying (boasting) that he was the top soloist in the society for a reason. The brunette had snapped back just as quickly with, "It's because of that fact that I worry you'll become careless!"

So here he was, watching as Ludwig took out two men who had stepped outside for a joint. Killing them silently, cutting their throats as if they were pieces of paper being introduced to a pair of scissors. He had to have the man teach him how he did that one day.

The blond was a little jealous since the job they gave him was so boring, anyone could shoot from a distance, but Arthur had told him that not everyone had a 100% accuracy rate like Matthew did. It made the young man blush to just recall the words, but it made him a little depressed too to recall Arthur, seeing as how the man didn't really want to talk to him at this point.

Matthew shook the thought out of his head, he didn't want to remember the angry, disapproving look the Englishmen had given him a few days before. He tried to recall the roles each of them were doing this time around.

Ludwig's job was to make sure no one strayed too far from the building while Alfred and Roderich went to hunt down the straddling syndicate members in the city. Matthew's wasn't to start until the two got back, which was why he felt like he wasn't needed at the moment, the German's voice echoed in his head as he absently stroked Alfred's mauser, one of the few old fashioned arms that the American owned, definitely a gift from Arthur. _"_

_"Make sure no one steps 5 meters away from the building when they get back."_ They being Alfred and Roderich.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he heard the American's voice call for Ludwig and his attention over the ear piece.

"Me and Fredrich are nearby, ready for some wild fowl hunting, Mattie?"

"Fredrich and I, Alfred, Frederich and I," Matthew corrected the man, they both ignored the way the Austrian was scowling at how Alfred had used their real names, the British's grammar Nazi ways had been one of the few things that had rubbed off on him.

Alfred scoffed, "Whatever."

Matthew sighed a little at the reply, he watched as the three of them met up and trotted quickly to the side door, the only other entrance or exit to the building. Their plan was to just get in and decimate, that was Alfred's part of the plan, obviously. Roderich though, said that they should trick the cowards who ran into running into a trap. That trap was a sniper called Matthew, who would take out the ones with ran for the doors at the front of the building so they could concentrate on the stubborn ones inside the building.

"Are you ready?" The question was directed at him, Matthew hummed in acknowledgment as he lowered the gun barrel to point at the glass panels.

There was suddenly a lot of yelling being transmitted over to his side as he heard the large German slam down the side door. Then there were gunshots, lots and lots of gunshots from both sides accompanied with excited cursing from Alfred. He saw a few people heading towards the door, all he felt was the pressure of his finger on the trigger as he watched them crumple onto the ceramic tiles.

"Shit," the blond cursed lightly as he missed the temple of one of the men running towards the door and took off a chunk of his right ear instead. The man flew back and slammed into the tile, getting up and glancing back at the showdown in confusion. Thank god he was stupid, or he would've realized that he was knocked backwards from a force from the front and not the back, since the man just got back up, cradling his bleeding ear, and headed back towards the shattering glass panel doors. Matthew was pretty sure the man was just suffering from shock though.

He growled a little as Ludwig apprehended him for not concentrating, "I'm sorry, I'll take off my glasses now." His reply was a gruff approving sound.

Unlike Alfred who actually needed the damn things from being on the internet for so long, Matthew was forced to wear them to fix his _over_ perfect eyesight. He had started complaining about headaches a few years ago and after going to a doctor or two, they had resolved the matter when he did the standard eye test. Apparently, his headaches were being caused by the over perfection of his eyes, they were picking up too much visual information and caused his brain to overload. Simple solution? Glasses.

He slipped the light thing off and into the lapels of his shirt and aimed again. This time, getting the man right in the middle of his frontal lobe.

.,x.{~}.x,.

The fighting slowly dwindled as the night went on.

The glass door has been totally demolished by now, giving Matthew a clearer view of the inside of building. He could see that the room had been divided into two, some bodies littered the middle of the room from the very beginning of the strife.

Alfred and the other two were hiding by the side door, behind some overturned tables. What was left of the syndicate was hiding behind some other tables and a few large crates that were seeping out a strange yellow-green powder, leaving themselves totally open to Matthew.

He didn't shoot them, it'd be over too fast for it to be fun was what Alfred had said, so he waited till someone was brave enough to look over to shoot off a chunk of his head.

After about two hours of this, the handful that were left surrendered, dropping their guns and getting up. They didn't even get a chance to talk before they were shot down.

The other three got up from their stiff positions behind the tables and stepped out of the building, Alfred gave him an affirmative when he asked if he should use the bazooka yet. When he saw that the three were at a minimally safe distance, Matthew picked up Ludwig's bazooka and heifted it onto his shoulder. Trust the German to get something like this for his impressive gun collection.

He slipped his glasses back on and aimed at their strategically planned spot. It was a gas pipe that ran the better part of the front wall, and the resulting explosion should be intense enough to engulf evidence of the people present. He aimed and shot, thrown back a little as the small, custom missile shot out of the cannon and straight towards it's destination.

He watched as the building exploded, a black smog quickly rolling up towards the skies. The smell of sulfur intensified, laced with a hint of burning flesh and rubble.

No survivors.

.,x.{~}.x,.

There was nothing on tv.

Matthew was bored.

For almost a week now, he heard nothing back from his target, a Giovanni Conti. He thought the man was into his type, which made him feel a little unappreciated and forgotten.

The phone rang, the boy immediately jolted up off the sofa at Romano's place and got it on the fourth ring, yelling a "Got it!" to his temporary roommate as he dashed forward.

Romano and him had bought the place together half a decade ago when Romano had begged the Canadian to help him get a place away from the course, Matthew agreed, seeing as how he was conveniently looking for a place in the area anyways. It was larger then his place in London and felt more "lived in", seeing as how Romano didn't take up jobs as much since he and Antonio got together.

And even though this place was supposed to be his sanctuary away from Antonio, the two men were here more then Antonio's actual home, but that was ok with Matthew, since they were both considerate enough to welcome him when he had arrived very suddenly on a Tuesday morning. Although he did end up waiting a while since Antonio was in the middle of his morning nap.

He fumbled with the phone a little as he skidded in front of it, "Hello?" he breathed (in Italian), the words rushing out like a slur.

"Is Mr. Williams there?"

"This is him, who's asking?"

The man answered with the targets name and told Matthew to come in before noon and hung up.

Matthew stood there for a few seconds, the conversation was a lot shorter then he expected. Romano, who was looking through the fridge at the time looked up at him.

"Got your job?"

Matthew blinked and looked up at the older man, noting the slightly worried look on the man's face as he replied, "Uh..yea," and proceeded to reach his brother.

.,x.{~}.x,.

Giovanni was a scrappy looking brat who Matthew found hard to believe was 6 years older then him.

The man had greasy looking brown hair that was combed back at some parts, but messy and feathery at others. He circled him like a hawk, eyeing him up and down, slowing down a little when he was behind him-which made the boy shudder in disgust.

The man finally faced him, a bit too close for comfort and asked if Matthew wanted to take up the position of his new bodyguard.

The Canadian answered reluctantly, trying to sound as much as a money desperate newb as possible.

Giovanni smiled, creepily, as he made to hug the young man. The blond flinched back a little before he stepped into the embrace, then pulled back again when he felt the man place his hands much too close to his ass.

"You need the money, don't you?" The man growled, as he held his grip. Matthew swallowed down his disgust as he made a small nod.

.,x.{~}.x,.

They had been inside finishing up some details before they finally had to leave for a meeting.

Matthew breathed out a sigh of relief as they headed outside and stepped towards the black Mercedes to open the door for his target.

Suddenly, Matthew tensed and jumped towards the man, tackling him down as a bullet whizzed past, uncomfortably close. The other bodyguards quickly had their guns out, pointed towards the general direction of the bullet as Matthew pulled himself off the fallen man.

They are rushed into the car, Matthew shoved in next to a swearing Giovanni as they screech away from the building.

The car was soon silent. Giovanni looked at him and spat a small, grateful thanks as he placed his hand on the boy's thigh.

The blond tried his best to ignored the man as he thought Alfred was aiming a bit too close for comfort.

.,x.{~}.x,.

Across from the car pulling away from the sidewalk was a 5 story building that looked uncomfortable next to the taller, more modernized buildings around it.

On the roof was a familiar bespectacled blond that was bent over a black guitar case that's hollow was nothing like a guitar.

Alfred was putting his custom Mauser away at record speeds as he growled under his breath, murmuring curses as he went.

Sure, he had gone along with Matthews plan to make the man trust him, but after seeing what the man had done to Matt in that office, he had aimed a lot closer then Matthew probably intended for him to aim.

Sure, he owed the younger boy a favour; sure, he said he'd do anything no matter what his emotions were telling him to; and sure, he promised not to kill Matthew's target on the premises that Matthew needed him for something else more confidential.

But he had not expected his younger brother to just go along with the man's whims to achieve whatever the hell he needed to.

He cried out in frustration as he got up, fists clenched as he kicked the nearby wall,"FUCK!"

Next time, he won't be as nice, no matter what Mattie told him.

.,x.{~}.x,.

Giovanni was disgusting to say the least, in the last week and a half that he's been working under him, they've been to at least two gay bars a day. Once in the afternoon, then once again much later at night.

Usually, other people's habits didn't annoy him as much, but the way that the man acted towards these people, and the attitude he had towards them was borderline animalistic.

He watched as he stood behind the man, as the Italian was fondling something out of view, forcing pained cries from his companion for the night. A surprisingly young boy with large, frightened eyes, much younger then what should be legal.

Matthew glared at the back of his head, but was a little delayed in hiding his expression when he caught the man watching him from the corner of his eye.

Giovanni suddenly got up and gestured for him to follow him to the washroom, staggering off in the direction of the staff rooms.

He didn't want to, but knew he had to. It was part of his job to accompany his 'boss' everywhere.

They headed towards the washroom and Matthew stepped in first to hold the door open for the man. There didn't seem to be anyone else inside the semi-classy washroom.

He stepped to the side as Giovanni walked past him towards the uranials at the far end, marching over at a brisk pace.

There was a weak trickling sound as Giovanni had unzipped the front of his pants.

Matthew waited.

The Italian finished his business and the Canadian offered him a paper towel as he washed his hands. The man didn't seem to intend to do anything. So it surprised him when Giovanni grabbed his hand in a painful, crushing hold when it looked like he was grabbing for the paper towel.

Before he could react, Giovanni had him up against the sink's counter, his dark eyes seemed steely in appearance as he crushed his lips into Matthew's.

Matthew tasted the strong alcohol in the man's mouth and it made him reel, he shoved him away,"Wha--what are you doing?!" He cried, as he made to wipe the man's spit off his lips.

Giovanni let out a dry,crooked laugh as he studied Matthew with an amused look on his face, "Don't lie to me, I saw you." He leaned back in and breathed into Matthew's ear, "You were jealous of that little boy..."

There was a loud bang as Matthew flinched backwards, hitting his head on the wall behind him.

The Italian let out another laugh, reaching out to stroke the boy's wound, caressing the scalp under his hair as he pulled him back towards him.

Matthew breathed in and out once before speaking in the calmest composure he could muster, "I think you're drunk, sir."

Giovanni paused, his eyes widened like a fish's. Then he growled as his eyes narrowed into slits, "and I think you'll be out of a job in the next few minutes if you don't do as I say."

All Matthew could think was, _Shit_, as Giovanni's hand ghosted over his and made to pull it lower-stopping it right in front of a small bulge at his pants.

"You know what to do."

The blond barely registered that he had nodded silently until he felt his fingers on the zipper, there was a long, agonizing sound as he pulled the damned thing down.

He looked down, trying to avoid eye contact with the drunk bastard as he hissed to "Hurry it up."

Matthew made no sound, as if making one would confirm that he was actually present. He placed a hand on the man's flabby chest and glided his hand down past his boxer's and gave an experimental squeeze.

His reply was a violent buck, Giovanni had suddenly lifted him off the floor and onto the counter, thrusting erratically into his fist before calming down enough to give out a breathy moan.

"Fuck..." the older man hissed, taking over Matthew's hand and making him pump him in time with his slow thrusts.

Matthew continued to stare down at the movements, refusing to look the man in the eye.

The thrusts soon reached a violent pinnacle, Giovanni was thrusting hard enough to flatten Matthew against the wall where he sat, his grip on Matthew's fisted hand tightening dangerously. Matthew swallowed a gag as the man's whole body leaned in closer and he felt something shoot out across his shirt, the offending article soon pulling out of his grip.

The boy looked down at his shirt, absentmindedly rubbing his hands clean on his now soiled shirt. A hand came out of no where and stopped him, grabbing his other hand in the process and he felt something being tied around them.

He snapped out of it and started struggling when he felt Giovanni embrace him, his hands traveling down his back and past his belt line.

"NO!" he screamed, flailing out with his legs and catching the Italian right in the gut, sending him backwards and into a stall door.

Unfortunately, the man caught himself mid-fall, grabbing onto the side panels of the stall and had pulled himself back up. He glared, there was a somewhat crazed look in his eyes.

Matthew hopped off the counter and raced for the door, slamming through, but was stopped immediately when two of his fellow bodyguards each grabbed him under the arm and dragged him kicking and screaming back into the washroom.

Giovanni was there, looking like the disgusting pig he was, grinning from ear to ear as he massaged his gut.

"What should we do with him, Boss?" Henchman 1 asked.

"Want us to teach the rookie a lesson?" That was Henchman 2, Matthew shuddered at the choice of words.

Giovanni didn't answer.

He felt thick fingers prodding at the sides of his mouth, he bit down on them. There was a yelp and the next thing he knew, he found himself on the floor with a quickly bruising eye.

"Don't damage him," the Italian commanded, bending down to wrench Matthew's face to him. "I think I'll work on him a little...besides," he added, "the boy's saved my life once now so he should consider this as compensation."

That last statement was directed at him, a warning.

The hand restraints were removed and Matthew was left there on the floor as the three men stepped out, he listened to the footsteps die down, he didn't move.

.,x.{TBC}.x,.

Yes, shoot me, the Italian guy's name is Giovanni...so typical 3"" I'm a lazy bum, sue me.

And yea...it's just gonna get worse 3"" Or better, for some of you uh...I can't say who cause it'll probably end up spoiling the story.


	3. Touching without Feeling

**Rating: **R

**Warnings:** **GRAPHIC **(I cannot emphasis this ENOUGH), with a hint of torture in the pain _and_ pleasure department to some very unwilling victum. Also 1 Hetalia character death, even though I had planned so much more...

**Disclaimer :** AHAHAHAHAHA...I can't believe I forgot to write this but...I don't own the totally awesome Hetalia *SOB*

Last chapter, have fun~ READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION! D; SRSLY! D:

**.,x.{Start}.x,.**

"I don't want to talk to him," the British growled as he was being pushed along by the more built Frenchman, putting up a rather impressive fight as they struggled along.

"You can't avoid the boy forever, mon chere!" Francis chirped, "Look at where that's gotten you with Alfred!" A grin plastered his face as he intentionally dodged the killer glare that Arthur had sent him. He suddenly felt very much like a dead man.

"Besides..."he hummed, still avoiding the scary expression on Arthur's face, "You should be nicer to him seeing as how he's risking his life to help us find our target."

Arthur growled, softer this time, as if on the border of apprehension and agreement. "This was supposed to be his job in the first place..."

"Well," Francis said with finality that mingled with a hint of regret, "Chatwick's a bastard for making us take the job without even telling us who he was gonna use as our scapegoat..."

"He promised not to tell Matthew!"

"Chatwick's a liar, and Matthew's reckless for accepting the job." There was little resistance now as they trudged along, he laughed lightly, "Matthew and Alfred probably subconsciously inherited some of your rebellious traits, "Francis grinned at the now blushing British man.

"Wa...! They did not!"

"C'est vrai! If I remember correctly..." The taller man bent down a little as he pulled Arthur's face towards his and breathed in the arousing scent of blood and smoke, "...you weren't exactly the _proper_ gentleman you are now."

Arthur made a small protest, but was cut off as Francis closed the distance between them for a deep kiss. A warm tongue begging for access on his lower lip, accompanied by soft nips and sucks that Arthur knew was something Francis did to make him melt. They seemed to have swirved off course and were now in a small, dark room that Arthur could only presume to be the janitor's closet.

He let out a soft moan, "We shouldn't..." Somehow the older man's hands had ended up surprising close to his perking nipples.

"Matthew..." The British tried again, Francis let out a grunt in acknowledgment as he deepened the kiss, making Arthur's breathing hitch.

He let out another breathy moan as his hands that were previously hammering on the Frenchman's chest, were now clenching onto the colourful material there.

"Younnnhhh~~~YOU GIT!" He finally managed as he pulled away, punching the older man in the face.

Francis let out a laugh as he scratched his head, but then Arthur noticed a look of realization and horror dawning on the man's face as he was shoved by said man.

There was a sickening crack as he was shoved aside, hard.

Arthur slammed into one of the shelves before catching himself upright, someone had attacked them. He looked up and saw red blossoming in Francis' hair as the heavier man fell. It was slow motion, the man's silky blond hair was staining with the chilling red quickly.

Arthur pushed himself off the shelf and threw himself over to the fallen man, "Francis! FRANCIS!"

He checked the wound, totally forgetting about their assailent. It wasn't deep but the force itself might've killed him. With a sob, he frantically looked for a pulse.

"Don't die on me you bastard..." he muttered, too shocked to register what he had or hadn't found.

The British was suddenly yanked backwards, thrown against the floor as the assailant made himself visible.

The shock silenced him as all he could do was stare in silent agony at the traitor.

"I think I hit him too hard..." The man stated, a calm expression gracing his features, "Regretful, really...seeing as how we used to be such good friends. Oh well, it was either him or me, right?"

Arthur felt his lips part, a soft cry escaped him as a tear trailed down his cheek. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

The much bigger man bent over him and traced the trail gently, "Shame, I wasn't planning to get you two involved, but, the Society thought they could outsmart me by hunting me down with people they thought were superior then me."

Arthur choked, the man had planned everything all along, for years; and with disgust realized why the man had gone so far.

"Please...please not Matthew..." He whispered, his voice hoarse with a scream that couldn't escape. The man smiled and pulled out his gun.

"Please..."

.,x.{~}.x,.

Francis and Arthur were supposed to visit him today, but it was well past their assigned meeting time. Matthew thought nothing of it and sighed, they were probably busy.

A few days ago, Francis had informed him happily that they were closing in on their target so the boy just needed to hang in there for a few more days and he could kill the scumbag that was Giovanni.

For the past two weeks, he's been tormented by the man's advances and threats of being fired, but he avoided it by offering small 'favors' to the man. He wasn't happy about this, but he didn't want to risk losing a very important and dangerous target for his ex-mentors. Apparently the man they were after was a rogue assassin who worked for Giovanni. Before, this hadn't been much of a problem, but a few years ago the man had targetted one of the Society's members, the man was in a coma to this day.

Of course, the Society's members were important, they were the assassins patrons. So Chatwick had assigned various people to hunt down the man before, but none were very successful in capturing and killing the elusive man. Soon, some other patrons and a few assassins were targeted and the problem became much more serious. Now, his plan was to have Matthew get as close to the rogue's patron as possible so that he'd get targeted by the man. Then, when the rogue's concentrated on the blond, Arthur and Francis would stretch all of their resources to finding the man and shooting him down.

That's why, Arthur had vehemently disagreed with his choice of accepting the mission on that day, going so far as to punch him. Matthew grew solemn with the memory and shook his head to rid himself of it.

What he found strange was the fact that the other assassin hadn't done anything yet. The feeling of being discovered overcame him but he shook that off too, that's ridiculous, no one but; Chatwick, Arthur, Francis and himself knew about the plan. He was also pretty damn sure that he had been acting the role of a helpless new bodyguard pretty well for the last few weeks, pretending to know nothing about the job.

It seemed to work, or at least, the idiot Giovanni was buying it.

Speaking of Giovanni...the man had been strangely very quiet for the whole afternoon. As if he mysteriously disappeared off the face of the Earth.

Matthew looked over to the intercom system that connected him to his boss. He looked away. He looked back over again.

There was an uneasy feeling in his gut as he buzzed the man's office. No one answered, a chill ran down his spine.

He pulled open his drawer and pulled out the bottom, there was a secret compartment there that contained Kumajirou and a few cartridges of his custom bullets. He slipped two into his pant pocket and tucked the gun into it's holster before sliding the drawer closed.

.,x.{~}.x,.

There was something wrong, there was definitely something wrong.

His walk over to the boss' office had been a fast one, but when he caught the scent of blood he froze and cursed silently. It wasn't very fresh, but it still smelled wet.

Something inside him faltered, but he had to find out what was wrong. Matthew took a hesitant step towards the slightly ajar door.

The copper scent grew stronger with the smell of gun powder, he pulled his gun out and held it in front of him as he creeped closer. Looking through the small crack in the door, he saw nothing.

Matthew slowly reached for the doorknob and grasped the metal sphere in his hands, and cried in surprise as it was yanked back as the door jerked open. A long, metal pipe swung down on him and struck him across the chest. Matthew fell backwards as he raised the gun towards the attacker, fighting the pain of a possible broken rib, only to have it kicked out of his hands before he could pull the trigger. He watched as his chrome coloured revolver spun up and back down, and made to grab for it.

"I wouldn't move if I were you," A cold voice laughed as a large hand slipped past his defenses and coiled around his neck tightly, restricting any other movement he was going to make.

The voice clicked and his eyes snapped to attention towards the man's face, "Ivan..." The gun clattered helplessly to the ground next to his feet.

"Hello Matthew," the taller man leaned in, his breath brushing against his skin. There was something not right about this. Matthew searched the man's face for an explanation as to why he was there, there was too much yet nothing at all, he shivered.

"What are you doing here Ivan?" He asked, trying to distract the man as he slipped a small blade out of his shirt sleeve.

The Russian smiled, "I'm just here to get rid of some trash..." his voice trailed off grimly as he felt the small blade pressed against his neck.

"Let me go, Ivan." The man glared at him as his grip became lax, his cold hand slipped away and Matthew directed a glance at him before he went to pick up his gun. He slipped his knife back into it's compartment as he got up. Keeping an eye and his gun on the man, he made a somewhat wide birth around Ivan to Giovanni's office.

He looked inside to see Giovanni on the floor, a puddle of blood drying where his head was, his face a miserable mess. The sight made him gasp, his eyes transfixed on the bloody mess that slowly made itself apparent. He had heard of Ivan's kills and how gory they were, but witnessing it was a different matter.

There was a chuckle behind him, much too close, Matthew cursed himself for not paying more attention to the man.

He was a bit too late though as Ivan's hand yanked his gun away and grabbed at his hair, pulling him into the room.

Matthew shrieked in pain, "Lemme go!" Ivan ignored him and slammed his head in the wall, his glasses shattered under the impact and the shards cut into his face.

The Russian let go and watched the boy crumple to the floor. He crouched down to look at the boy, trails of blood making their path down the Canadian's face. There was a soft moan that erupted from his small lips as Ivan lifted his chin up to observe the damage. It wouldn't be good at all if he was permanently damaged.

The damage was surprisingly less deadly then it should've been, there were only a few shallow cuts on his upper cheeks, but one of his eyelids had been sliced, making the boy temporarily impaired. There was a soft murmur and Ivan had some trouble understanding what he said.

"Why...are you doing this?"

The Russian laughed, a cold, harsh laugh, "Oh Matthew, I've been planning this all along. I was just waiting for the right opportunity to come up"

The boy's working eye showed confusion, Ivan continued with a smile. "I'm the rogue assassin." A look of understanding flashed across his expression, "Why..."

"To get _you._" If this was some messed up version of a confession, Matthew didn't like it. The man continued, "I've been working for Giovanni for ages, killing whoever he wanted for his cash."

"...I don't understand."

"You know, I was supposed to kill you that night."

Matthew froze. The memory of Theo Audley's death rushed into his head, Ivan had spared him that night.

"Of course, I was surprised when you showed up right on Giovanni's doorsteps, Chatwick was either a fool or a risk-taker." He chuckled, "He'd never seen you before but we knew who you were, you opened the opportunity for me right when you accepted Giovanni as your target."

The Canadian closed his eyes and jerked away, Ivan didn't let him, his grip tightening around his cheeks.

"I asked him if he wanted you dead, and do you know what the disgusting pig said?!" Ivan growled when Matthew didn't answer, "He said as soon as I got rid of Arthur and Francis, he'd have fun making you his _bitch_."

Matthew's eye snapped open, Ivan knew about the others, "Where are they?" He demanded, anger scratching his voice.

There was no hesitation, "I disposed of them."

Matthew choked.

The Russian let go of his chin and made to stroke his hair, as if joining in on his remorse.

"Don't touch me!" Matthew lashed out, kicking the man. He felt strong hands grab his leg instead and pull him onto his back. He cried in agony as he felt the older man crawl on top of him, successfully pinning his legs with his weight. His fingers clawed at the older man, "DON'T TOU--" Matt yelled in protest when he felt the man's lips on his, hungrily sucking the air out of him. He bit down on the invading tongue and felt a surge of joy when he felt the man recoil in pain.

Only to have a punch in the face as his response. He stifled a cry as his head was knocked harshly sideways.

His hands were being tied, for a second Matthew couldn't register anything, then slowly realized that it was Ivan's scarf around his wrists. He had always thought that the scarf was the only pleasant thing about Ivan, now he thought differently.

The man stopped after he was done binding him, pulling out Matthew's small blade from where he saw the boy put it and stabbed it though the cloth, into the floor for extra measure. "I'll ask you again. Will you accept my proposition?"

Matthew shivered. Ivan observed the boy underneath him as the word slipped out of mouth, "Never."

The Russian growled, "I guess I'll have to convince you otherwise."

Matthew shuddered violently as he recalled what Giovanni had made him do in that washroom a few weeks ago and tried to throw Ivan off. It didn't work.

"Your eye..." Ivan muttered, stroking the wound, he seemed to be intent on ignoring Matthew's retaliation, seeing as how he touched him with utmost care.

"You bastard!" Matthew spat, twisting away from the contact. Ivan became silent, seething, as he pulled out his own knife from his boots. With one swift motion he cut through shirt and skin. A thin line on Matthew's skin soon welled with blood and he hissed at the sensation.

Ivan removed his leather gloves and placed a hand on Matthews bare chest, his thumb following the line as he watched the boy writhe underneath him.

"Matthew..." He murmured as he leaned closer, snaking two fingers into the boy's mouth so that he could kiss him this time without getting bitten.

Matthew let out a strangled no but almost ended up choking instead, a tear ran down his cheek, forced out from the lack of air entering his lungs. It didn't help that he couldn't breath properly with Ivan crushing his torso.

A thumb wiped it away.

_Too gentle. Too fucking gentle you bastard._

He glared at the man through a half lidded eye, Ivan was smirking.

The fingers left his mouth as they proceeded to trail gently up and down his sides. Matthew shivered involuntarily from the shockingly cold touch, arching into it before twisting away, he wouldn't submit to this man.

.,x.{~}.x,.

Ivan took in the sight before him, the boy truly was beautiful.

He was flushed all over from Ivan's relentless teasing, the only sounds he made were silent screams as he bucked and shuddered uncontrollably-into and away at the same time.

The Russian was a little irked at how the boy still resisted him, but he loved breaking the boy down, he wanted to hear him beg for release. He could understand why Giovanni wanted to make the boy his own, but he's understood for a very long time.

"Say you want it, Matthew..." He hissed into the boy's ear and enjoyed the shiver he brought the boy.

"..._No._"

Ivan grinned as he tightened his hold on the boy's restricted cock, jerking a agonizing shriek out of him. The boy arched higher then usual this time and the Russian moved to tighten his hold around the base of Matthew's quivering member.

Matthew, in return choked out a sob as his whole body shook in need of release.

"Now?" Ivan asked, too cheerfully.

All Matthew could do was cry.

.,x.{~}.x,.

It was too much, Ivan had taken up teasing his ass, tying up his too hard cock with a thin strip of his mutilated shirt.

Matthew had been flipped over, tangling his arms into a very uncomfortable position that was punishing to his elbows. Another cold finger entered him and he felt his muscles constrict because of it. He tried to pull away but the Russian's other hand held a death-like vice on his hip.

He cried as the man gave an experimental thrust, burying his thick fingers in as far as the second knuckle. Ivan leaned onto him as he continued, Matthew could hear the man breathing near his ear, heavy and lustful. Matthew...Matthew..., he was muttering as he used his fingers to claw deeper.

Suddenly, Matthew felt Ivan hit something that made him see stars, he rocked backwards and let out a lewd cry-his arms jerking at his restrains as he tried to touch himself. He could feel the older man smirking.

Ivan touched the spot again, gently this time, the feeling made Matthew double over, "Ahhhh...!"

.,x.{~}.x,.

The Russian seemed to have snapped before he did, but he touched Matthew now much rougher and angrier then before.

"Now?" He growled, fingering Matthew's hole as his other hand flinted over his member. All Matthew could manage was a small shake of the head, mindless with lust yet trying so hard to keep his sanity.

The man's hands left him as he heard a zipper go down, he shuddered.

There was something surprisingly hot that pressed up to him a few seconds later, sliding up and down the crevice of his butt cheeks until just a tip was positioned at his slick hole. It was thick. Matthew jerked away in horror, tears already springing in his eyes.

"Matthew!" The Russian barked, violently pulling him back towards him. Then suddenly turned gentle as a fucking lamb as he whispered into Matthew's ear, "I'll be nice if you accept my offer."

Matthew pushed the thought of what Russia would do to him out of his mind and forced himself to shake his head violently. He would _not_ submit.

"Fine," Ivan growled, pushing in slowly without warning, savoring the feeling of Matthew tightening around him in protest.

Matthew screamed, he could feel himself tearing as the man continued to thrust inside. His legs lost their strength and he collapsed. He heard the Russian chuckle behind him as two strong hands covered his hip and pulled him back up, burying himself fully into the boy. The Russian shivered as he felt the boy convulsing around him, watching as the boy's fingers clawed at the floor underneath him.

This time, he pulled out slowly before giving a harsh thrust into the boy, hitting his prostate. He watched, amused, as the boy tried to compose himself. Ivan gave another thrust, and another, the boy was positively squirming now.

"Nghh!......-eas...!"

Ivan pulled out and pushed back in painfully slow, drawing out a illicit scream, "What did you say?" The grin was apparent in his voice.

Matthew sobbed, "Please...Ivan, please..." Ivan shook with the plea, but he would not be so nice to the boy, he had not accepted his offer yet.

But...

He pulled the blade restraining Matthew's hands and scarf out from the floor and lifted the boy up, impaling him deeper. Ivan gave a shallow thrust. Matthew cried and arched, his hands reaching for his erection. Ivan swatted the pair away and used his hand as a double insurance besides the cloth still entwining the cock. It was too hot to the touch and Ivan rubbed his thumb over the boy's head, Matthew shuddered forward as a minuscule amount of cum leaked out.

Ivan breathed heavily as he felt the boy convulse again inside, and started thrusting at a punishing pace, grunting in pleasure with each thrust. The boy was crying now, his hands trying desperately to pull Ivan away from his painfully hard member, yet he did not notice how he was rocking back into the large cock at the same pace as Ivan's.

The boy was muttering things like; "Please Ivan," and "It hurts, it hurts," and so on as he was violated relentlessly. Sometimes, Ivan would give a particularly hard thrust and stop, enjoying how the boy's ass would tighten around him, sucking on him, "You're so tight..." He murmured, licking a tear off the side of Matthew's face. Matthew was still shaking in disagreement, even as he muttered for the man to stop, let me cum, please.

Ivan was pretty sure the boy's lost it at this point.

He gave a few final thrusts before he buried himself deep into the boy, "Ahhh...! Please, Ivan!" The boy begged, thrusting back into him as his seeds shot deep into the warm cavern.

Matthew felt something warm cover him deep inside and it drove him wild, he hated it. He clawed at the hand restricting him, tears rolling down his face in torrents with his anguish. Ivan was holding him in place until he finished, murmuring his name lovingly as he stroked the boy's cock gently, jerking choking noises out of the boy.

When he was done, he tugged the temporary cock ring off Matthew and watched as he came with a long,violent shudder, the warmth squeezing around him in a death-vice for a good 5 seconds. Ivan moaned as he gave a small thrust and pulled out slowly. Matthew shuddered as he flopped forward, totally spent, he was visibly shivering as his muscles continued convulsing.

The Russian chuckled as he turned the boy around, sprawled out on the floor. There was a line of pearly cum present on the boy's stomach and Ivan made to touch the sinful precession. His eyes traveled down as the boy moaned softly, red intermingled with white as it oozed out of the boy's swollen hole. Ivan shivered, he leaned in and kissed the boy fully on the lips, the boy bit down again, this time unable to call upon enough energy to cause any harm. The older man sucked the air out of him, and he soon felt trembling fists trying to push him away.

He grinned into the kiss as he inhaled a somewhat lust-filled breath, his hands reaching for Matthew's thighs. Ivan ran a finger from Matthew's groin to his inner thigh and slipped a hand under each knee, lifting the boy's ass in position. "...No...!" A soft, harsh, scream, he pushed back into the protesting boy and shuddered at the familiar clenching.

"No! Ivan I'm ripping in two, please...!" The words were so inaudible, he decided to ignore them and gave one hard thrust after another. The boy arched off the floor, turned to his side and heaved.

Matthew coughed out the little amount he had in his stomach as he felt himself shifting forward with the force of the thrusts. The feeling now was disgusting, he felt like a piece of meat.

Suddenly, the man was jerked out of him with a yell. There was someone cursing vehemently at the man in a familiar voice as he heard violent scuffling not too far away. A gunshot, and it was silent.

Matthew slowly peeled himself off the floor and looked towards the figure standing over the fallen man. Who was it? His non-blinded eye wasn't focusing and he couldn't register who it was.

The man stepped closer and Matthew flinched, curling his legs up into himself protectively.

"Matthew, oh god, Matthew..." The man was muttering as he leaned down, reaching a hand over to stroke his cheek. The boy swatted the hand away and screamed, but barely any sound came out. Strong hands wrapped around him and pulled him into a warm embrace, he choked in surprise before he relaxed. Reaching a tentive hand out, he clasped at the other man's straw blond hair as he sobbed.

**.,x.{End}.x,.**

OMFGICAN'TBELIEVEIJUSTWROTETHATSOMEONEPINCHME!D;

Btw...France and England are alive, they're the ones who called America to HURRY HIS ASS OVER AND SAVE HIS PRINCESS FROM THE BIG BAD RUSSIAN! D; (Cept England's in crit. conditions and France had to shave off a patch of his hair to get about 30-some stitches! D;)

To tell you the truth, it was planned to be a lot more angst. Uk and France would've died, possibly some other countries, and Russia would've lived! Even worse, I had another twist in his plan planned out that would've made Matthew look like the traitor! D; The last scene in the chapter would've been a teary showdown between Matt and Alfred! And yes, Matthew would have to shoot Alfred in self defense / accident and run off TTwTT

Rejoice! Rejoice that I decided not to be mean this time and only write a one character death story.

Btw...USxCanada epilogue? =O If I feel that enough people are interested, I'll write it but it'll take second priority to my other planned Hetalia fics though.


End file.
